Monday, December 27, 2010

A few weeks ago, I noticed that Daltrey has a double whorl on his forehead, in addition to having seemingly endless cowlicks all over his body. I had heard that there was a pseudoscience whereby the temperament of a horse is determined by these whorls and swirls. Curious, I did a little digging, and here — solely for your entertainment — is what I found.

According to Chris Irwin, studies were done that showed hair whorls develop before any other body hair and are directly linked to the development of brain matter.

Typically, the whorl(s) on a horse's face will be located more or less between the eyes. If it is above above that, the horse is more aware; if lower, then close minded.

The more geometric and symmetrical the whorl, the greater the horse's ability to focus. Muddled or elongated whorls indicate a horse that has difficulty focusing.

If the whorl is off center to the left (as you look at your horse), it means he is complicated but trustworthy. If it's offset to the right, he is likely to be less cooperative.

A double whorl indicates two personalities. If side-by-side, the personalities will be similar, but if they are stacked, the personalities will be contradictory and likely unpredictable.

Horses with whorls where the hair grows clockwise tend to favor going to the right; counterclockwise, to the left.

So, what do I have?

Here's Baby D, with his 2 slightly muddled, more or less side-by-side whorls, both centered, slightly above his eyes, running counterclockwise. Hmmm.

You should have seen this one coming: at eye level, denoting average intelligence, symmetrical, running counterclockwise and slightly off center to the right, indicating a less cooperative nature.

And of course, Mr. Perfect: perfectly symmetrical, right where it should be, running clockwise.

It was an interesting way to pass the time on a day when it was too muddy to ride.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

When you're rippin' and a ridin'
And you're coming on strong
You start slippin' and slidin'
And it all goes wrong because

Sometimes you're the windshield

Sometimes you're the bug.

— "The Bug" (Mark Knopfler)

from the 1991 Dire Straits album "On Every Street"

I've been riding on greased rails these last few weeks. I've gotten an enormous amount accomplished both at home and at work, and have been feeling pretty darn smug about it. Wrapped a major video project. Got the last issue of our magazine for the year put to bed. We're all set for Christmas save the usual few last minute straggler gifts. I had minor surgery scheduled for Wednesday, December 15th, had all the paperwork done, the deductibles paid, etc.

I had extensive restorative dental work about 15 years ago, and it's all held up beautifully until last week. A back bottom molar (#18, if you are dentally inclined) that has had a root canal and a crown started becoming uncomfortable. The veneer had worn, and it was lower than the one in front of it, placing undue pressure on the tooth in front of it. Since I already had an appointment in January, I was hoping to limp it along until then, because as anyone knows who has had this type of work done, it's expensive, even with dental insurance. And it was annoying more than anything.

Splat!

That was the sound of me hitting the windshield of an oncoming semi, in a figurative sense, of course.

To abbreviate a woeful, protracted tale, after a sleepless weekend, the root canal needed to be retreated, which I didn't even know was a possibility. Didn't you think that once you had a root canal, you were done with problems with that tooth? Then you were wrong, too! If the crown develops a leak, bacteria gets down in there and can wreak havoc. And oh, it did. I have an infection in my jaw, am on antibiotics, am still in pain, had to postpone my surgery until January. I have at least one more appointment with the endodontist, then I'll have to replace that crown. It's only money, right?

The good news? It's certainly kept me out of the Christmas goodies. I can't open my mouth wide enough to eat them, and if they're small enough to fit, I can't chew them. See? There's a silver lining in every wintry cloud.